


Singing the Blues

by fab_fan



Series: Through the Years [6]
Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: 1930s, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Arguing, Author Is Sleep Deprived, F/F, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, One Shot, Random & Short, Short, Short One Shot, The Author Regrets Everything, we are on a whirlwind tour of time periods with these two, we keep reliving that ep 9 confrontation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26509807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fab_fan/pseuds/fab_fan
Summary: Her socks were blue.That’s what Raelle remembered first.Her socks were blue and her shirt was white and she was the most gorgeous creature the young woman had ever seen in her life the first time she laid eyes on her that warm spring day outside the coffee shop on Willowbrook and Ninth.
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Series: Through the Years [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2065368
Comments: 14
Kudos: 115





	Singing the Blues

Her socks were blue.

That’s what Raelle remembered first. 

Her socks were blue and her shirt was white and she was the most gorgeous creature the young woman had ever seen in her life the first time she laid eyes on her that warm spring day outside the coffee shop on Willowbrook and Ninth. 

Now, draped in a shimmering black dress that winked in the dim lights of the stifling sweat and booze soaked club, the newly repealed law against liquor prompting all of society to emerge and partake in the blast of a brass horn and liquid courage that burned into their bellies, she was still a knockout that made heads turn and Raelle question why she ever set foot back in this place.

Flowing brunette locks that were ruffled by an elegant hand. Deep navy blue eyes that whispered secrets and songs that no musician could match. Beethoven and Mozart and Bessie Smith and Robert Johnson captured in the steady sounds of silence floating around the cut of her cheek and the slope of her jaw, plains of ivory that called out to be cradled and kissed. Ruby lips that teased and tantalized before opening to reveal a voice that heaven itself couldn’t rival, no angelic harp or chorus of celestial sacraments able to meet the timbre of seductive solace in the reverberations of a single note that dripped like honey and wanton desire into the microphone. The tip of a pink tongue snuck out to wet the smooth sultry painted lips, and all any gaze could do was follow its delectable path.

A low whistle sounded close by, and Raelle felt a kinship with the lounging gal a few steps to her left and a surge of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on because that whistle meant something...something dark and dangerous and not what the singer deserved. Something short and swift and in no way a promise of long hours spent discovering every single thing that made her tick, made her think and feel and sent her to the highest of euphoric highs.

The something Raelle wished she’d felt for the seductress because that’s all that was ever felt for her.

And damn it, if it wouldn’t have made life a speck easier.

The low call of the saxophone hummed into nothing, and the room was draped in absolute quiet as the song ended.

A polite round of applause erupted with the people hunched around tables and the bar acknowledging the band, dancers finishing their final twirl on the open space in front of the stage. The woman on stage gave a quick nod and a smirk before stepping off to the side, exchanging a fast word with the trumpet player before descending out of sight.

Raelle blinked, her mind seeming to come out of a haze as the music stopped and chatter took over. Giving herself a firm shake, she turned back around to the bar, reaching out for her half full glass and bringing it to her mouth, sipping the watery whiskey and wondering what she was going to do.

She shouldn’t be there.

Shouldn’t be anywhere near there.

Not with the amount of work still needing to be done. The Spree were still out there, growing their criminal enterprise by the day, robbing and extorting, and putting the entire town, the entire state, ill at ease with the fear of when the next bank might get knocked over or an armored truck sprayed with bullets.

She should be back at her desk, pouring over the latest reports and planning on how to capture the leader, whoever that was.

What was she doing in a small bar in Salem, swilling cheap alcohol and getting boxed in by gents and ladies paying no mind to anyone but themselves?

The answer came in the form of a hand caressing the back of her shoulders and a warm lithe frame leaning against her side, a chest covered in satin and sex brushing against her arm.

“Hi.”

Raelle refused to look, couldn’t let herself look, “Hi.”

A tiny chuckle, more scoff than mirth, “You won’t even look at me now?”

Jaw clenching at the subtle challenge, Raelle peered over, blue meeting blue, “What’s there to look at?”

“You tell me.”

Raelle’s eyes were hard, unforgiving, cold with the faintest hint of what used to be and could have been far below the grey tinged ice that was threatening to melt faster than the cubes that had been in her glass once upon a time, “I see nothin'. A stranger.”

The brunette’s face began to drop before quickly catching, “You have sex with strangers often?” A fingertip slid out, running along the curve of Raelle’s wrist and tracing the veins on the back of her hand, “The same stranger almost every night? For months?”

Raelle swallowed roughly, shoulders taut, ready to snap at a moment’s notice. She wanted to shrug off the touch, jerk her hand back...but she couldn’t.

She just couldn’t.

The singer quirked a brow, “Talk about how you’re with them? No matter what? Ready to face the world together? Don’t care what anyone else thinks or says? Tell them they're beautiful and that they can take all the time they need because you’ll be there when they’re ready?” The edge of her mouth trembled with a whiff of emotion that was slowly seeding into her gaze and tangling in her tone, something far different than the almost mocking lilt that encased each syllable, “You listen to a stranger tell you they love you and hold them close? Kiss them?”

Raelle quivered with the effort to not explode, not erupt in anger and sorrow and grief and that four letter word she refused to think about because it only made everything ten times harder, “You lied to me.”

The other woman straightened, shoulders pulling back, waiting for the wave that was about to hit her.

She’d experienced it before.

She simply hadn’t experienced it like this.

“You lied to me every single day.” Raelle spit out. “I know about Helen. About Porter. About how you saw someone weak and alone and easy prey for you to use.”

“I never used you” Scylla cut in. “I lied to you. I admit it. But not about us.”

“Us?” Raelle snorted, “The biggest lie of all.” She shook her head snidely, “Thinking you actually wanted me.”

“I do!” Scylla pressed closer, reaching out, “I did. Raelle, you have to believe me.”

“Believe what, Scyl?” Raelle leaned away, “That you didn’t come up to me because you were told to? That you didn’t kiss me because you thought I was some stupid thing who you could drag around and get to do what you wanted because you batted your eyes and took off your clothes?”

A glint of enraged hurt sparked, “You were the one who shoved me against the wall and had your fingers inside of me that first night.” Scylla shot back. “I may have kissed you first, but you were the one to touch me.”

“I thought you wanted me!” 

“I did, Raelle!” 

Raelle shoved away from the bar, tripping around the numerous patrons and pushing through the crowd.

She needed air.

She needed to not be there.

Not think about breathy throaty whispers and gasps. About waking up to gentle kisses against the side of her neck and sleepy smiles nuzzling soft skin.

About laced hands and coats held open and coffees sipped together in the early morning sunlight.

“Raelle!”

Raelle burst through the door, the cool night air slapping her flushed skin. She stormed down the sidewalk, jamming her hands in her trouser pockets.

“Raelle! Please!” 

Without even knowing she was doing it, Raelle spun around, anger surging in her blood, “Why me? Why did you pick me? Was it because my mom died? I was new? The country hick who…”

“I don’t know!” Scylla pleaded, “They didn’t tell me.”

Raelle waved a dismissive disbelieving hand.

“Does it look like I’m calling the shots around here?” Scylla held her arms out, “They told me to get close to you.”

“You sure did that.”

“They told me to bring you in.” Scylla continued, watching as Raelle began to pace, her entire being shivering with the thin thread of control whittling away. “I was told to deliver you, and I didn’t. I chose you. I chose you, Raelle. Please.”

Raelle glared at her, “Why should I believe anything you say?”

“What do I have to gain?” Scylla gulped, “I failed. I chose you instead of them. I didn’t do my job.” Her voice broke, “They’re going to kill me.”

“Well, we all have to go sometime.”

The twitch of her eye was the only thing giving up how much it burned her soul and ripped her belly to say it.

The air was punched out of Scylla’s lungs as the words floated between them, a vicious strike to her chest, her heart.

Both paused for half a beat, agony drumming in their tightening throats.

Raelle turned her shoulder, half facing the way away from her former lover, when she whipped back around and marched up to Scylla because goddess damn it. “If they want to kill you, why are you still here?”

Why was she sticking around?

A small shrug, “I wanted to see you.”

She was still there because of Raelle.

She would always be there because of Raelle.

The blonde’s mouth shook, tears glistening in her gaze, rage breaking down into bits and pieces, half shaped notes and unfocused unrealized lyrics in the face of the truth. In the face of what still hummed in her heart and clenched beneath her breast. In what filled her up from the overflowing bridge linking the two young women.

Scylla met her eyes, not looking away, broken and scared, but sparking with love.

Raelle tilted her head, blinking at the sting in her eye, “Scylla.”

“I hoped you would come back one more time.” A sad smirk, “Guess I was right.”

Raelle lifted her hands before letting them despondently fall back down.

Scylla took a breath, “I wanted one last chance to explain. To tell you I still love you.”

A calloused unsteady palm rubbed at Raelle’s face, swiping along her nose and wiping away any remnants of tears, “Damn it, Scylla.”

The corner of her mouth lifted, “You’re cute, Collar. Who wouldn’t want one last moment with you? Would have preferred a kiss.”

Raelle pinched the bridge of her nose, “Are you actually flirting with me right now?”

“I’m always flirting with you. You just don’t notice all the time.”

Raelle took her in. The cheeky grin doing little to cover the despair etched into timeless features. “Let’s go.”

“What?”

Raelle nodded, “They’re going to kill you? Let’s go. I can tell Anacostia and…”

“They will kill me just as quickly as the Spree.” Scylla frowned. “You know that as well as I do.”

Raelle exhaled, “Then, we’ll leave.”

“Leave to where? Raelle, you can’t...you can't just leave.”

“Yes, I can.”

“They’ll find you. They’ll notice you’re gone. You’re part of the task force that’s supposed to catch the Spree. Everyone knows who you are.”

Who the Bellweather Unit was.

The special task force the bigwigs in Washington formed to fight the country’s largest criminal organization.

“What do you think we should do?”

Because, goddess help her, she was a sucker for that smile.

“Nothing.” A bland curl of her lips, “You go home, and I go back inside.”

“No,” Raelle shook her head, “That is not happening.”

“Raelle,”

“You followed me out here.” Raelle pointed at her, “You followed me. I’m not letting you go back and act like you didn’t follow me and tell me you love me. No.” She held out her hand, “We’ll figure something out. Just...come home with me.”

Scylla stared at her hand.

Raelle opened her palm wider, “Please, Scyl. Come home with me.”

Scylla knew she shouldn’t. It put Raelle in danger. More danger than she already was in.

“Please.”

She put her hand in Raelle’s.

**Author's Note:**

> You know how this works. I like you for reading. I like like you for reading and leaving a kudos. I am totally in love with you for reading and dropping a comment.


End file.
